


steady

by keloidal (Filomena)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Food, M/M, Valentine's Day, Winter, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filomena/pseuds/keloidal
Summary: The call is interrupted by shifting and clattering. “I’d pet a dog,” Tsukishima answers, his voice sounding far away. A knife hits the cutting board, slicing something with even, steady strokes. “But not for thirty minutes.”Yamaguchi’s laugh rings through the empty bus. “Because you’d be there for an hour.”“Hmph.” The sound of vegetables being sliced fills the air. After a while, Tsukishima adds: “Maybe we should get a dog.”Yamaguchi buys Tsukishima a gift for Valentine's Day.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	steady

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i'd recommend listening to [mrs. magic](https://open.spotify.com/track/45BBlVHECwB0uNt7BsJ97r?si=8f4d9233f36945f4), [birch tree](https://open.spotify.com/track/6R7qvSSuG7Hy7C15ESlHIv?si=f5fb0ca45e494bd1), and [without you](https://open.spotify.com/track/4YmYRnO6Bg2G8hu7CxLog7?si=2b87cbc687624b8f) by strawberry guy as you read.

The bus shakes slightly as Yamaguchi stares out the window. The view is still and calm - it’s too late for cars to mill about, but too early for streetlights to be turned off. Snow flurries in illuminated spots of light on the pavement. If he squints his eyes hard enough, he can see the streamlines of each snowflake. 

He’s always liked it. This stillness that pervades everything. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, jolting in his hand. He accepts the call with numb fingers.

“Hello?” he asks, even though he already knows who’s on the other line.

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima’s voice is tinny and staticky, but smooth all the same. “Where are you?”

Yamaguchi grins. The bus sways, and he narrowly avoids denting the box in his hand. “On my way home.” 

“You’re not taking the bus, are you?”

Busted. Yamaguchi shifts the box fully into his lap, pushing aside his scarf. “I am,” he admits. He looks outside the window again. There aren’t any streetlights on the road, and he can’t see any buildings. Just an empty stretch of black land.

Tsukishima sighs. It crackles out, but Yamaguchi’s mind fills in the gaps. “You could have texted me to pick you up,” he grouses. Something makes a popping sound in the background. Maybe it’s dinner. “You shouldn’t be taking the bus in this weather.”

“It’s not that bad!” Yamaguchi counters cheerfully. Snowflakes thud onto the window. “It’s kind of pretty, actually. I think you’d like it.”

“I hate the cold.”

Yamaguchi sinks deeper into his seat. “That’s true,” he agrees. _“I’d_ like it. And I’d drag you outside with me.” 

They haven’t done that in a while. Walking outside when it’s gently snowing, or when the sky is pure blue and the air is ice cold. Tsukishima pretends to hate it all. Yamaguchi knows better.

“You would,” Tsukishima acquiesces. Distantly, there’s the _click click click_ of the gas stove being turned on. 

“Hmmm.” Yamaguchi nuzzles his cheek into the scarf he’s wearing. A puff of cologne - probably Tsukishima’s - hits his nose, and he breathes it in deeply. “What’re you making?”

Metal suddenly screeches, no doubt because Tsukishima is placing a pot on the stove.

“If you come home,” he responds, “maybe you’ll find out.”

Yamaguchi laughs. “I’m almost there,” he consoles. His eyes flick to the display inside the bus. He’s two stops away from his apartment building, and he readies himself to push the “stop”button beside him. “It’ll take ten more minutes.”

“Remember when you said that last time?”

The bus sways again. It’s making its way down the street of Yamaguchi’s apartment, and he finally pushes the button. 

“In my defense,” he protests, “there was a dog.”

Tsukishima clicks his tongue. The sound is clear across the staticky phone connection, and so is his impatience. “You were _thirty_ minutes late.”

“But it was a dog! Wouldn’t you do the same thing?”

The call is interrupted by shifting and clattering. “I’d pet a dog,” Tsukishima answers, his voice sounding far away. A knife hits the cutting board, slicing something with even, steady strokes. “But not for thirty minutes.”

Yamaguchi’s laugh rings through the empty bus. “Because you’d be there for an hour.”

“Hmph.” The sound of vegetables being sliced fills the air. After a while, Tsukishima adds: “Maybe we should get a dog.”

A dog. Yamaguchi’s chest fills with something warm, and it permeates into his cold fingertips. 

“But only if it stops you from petting other ones.” 

Yamaguchi hefts the box into his free arm, pressing it against his side as gently as he can. “Uh huh,” he agrees, making sure to sound as unconvinced as possible. “Sure, Tsukki.” 

He stands on unsteady feet, stumbling slightly when the bus stops. 

“How close are you?” Tsukishima asks. Vegetables hit the pan and begin to sizzle.

Yamaguchi leaves the bus through the side door. He lands squarely into a soft layer of snow, speckled with roadside dirt and pebbles. The smell of road salt wisps through the air.

“Almost there,” he responds. The bus door closes, expelling a warm gust of wind. Now that he has a proper view, he can see the individual, glimmering snowflakes covering the sidewalks and roofs. 

“Don’t stay out too long,” Tsukishima warns. It’s like he can read Yamaguchi’s mind. “You’ll get sick.”

Yamaguchi’s feet crunch in the snow as he walks towards his apartment building. “Okay,” he placates. The sidewalks haven’t been shovelled yet, so his shoes sink into the snowbank. 

Tsukishima rips open a packet. “Has it snowed a lot?” he asks. 

Snow flattens softly as Yamaguchi walks. He basks in it.

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm.” Tsukishima seems to be shaking the spice packet vigorously. “Why’d you take the bus, then?” 

Yamaguchi _finally_ reaches the door of his apartment building. He yanks it open, and his shoulders deflate immediately at the warmth. “I had to get extra groceries,” he lies easily. He’s glad Tsukishima isn’t here to see him. He has a terrible poker face.

“You’re a bad liar, Yamaguchi.”

Ah, damn. He’s been caught. He bites his lower lip, scanning his key card and making his way to the elevators. 

“I’m not,” he retorts. “I mean, I’m not lying.” He tucks the box more into his side, using his elbow to press the “up” button for the elevator. 

Tsukishima snickers. “Right,” he drawls.

The elevator opens with a _ding._ “You’ve been mean to me this whole time, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi complains. He can’t seem to stand still, even after he’s entered the elevator and punched in his floor.

“I’m just being honest.” The pot sputters with the addition of liquid. 

“Mean,” Yamaguchi repeats. The number that indicates the floor is steadily increasing, but at a pace too slow for him. His hand is starting to slip on the box. 

He’s already getting overheated. The wetness in his shoes is starting to sink into his feet, and his scarf - Tsukishima’s scarf - is wicking away his sweat.

“Has our elevator gotten slower?” he says, trying to push down his anticipation. 

“No?” Tsukishima turns off the gas stove. He covers the pot, indicated by the dull thud Yamaguchi hears. “Our elevator’s fine.”

Yamaguchi frowns. “It seems slow today.” 

The audio becomes muffled as Tsukishima picks up his phone. “If you say so,” he replies, his voice clear in the speakers. “Also, _please_ tell me you’re home now.”

“If this elevator would go any faster,” Yamaguchi complains, his frostbitten hand slipping on the box, “I would -”

The elevator doors open, revealing the familiar walls of Yamaguchi’s hallway.

“Was that the elevator?” Tsukishima asks.

Yamaguchi speed walks out, careful not to disturb the contents of the box. His phone bumps into his face as he undoes his scarf. 

“Yeah,” he rushes out. He nearly trips as he turns around a corner. When he spots his door, he goes into an outright jog, holding the box in his hand with a steady deathgrip. 

“...Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima states, as Yamaguchi frantically fumbles around for his keys. Floorboards begin to creak over the call. 

“I’m coming! I just gotta open the door, wait -”

Yamaguchi tucks his phone under his chin, stuffing his free hand into his pocket. His key is stupidly small, and his pockets are stupidly large. “Dumb pockets,” he curses. “Give me a sec -”

The door opens, revealing Tsukishima. He’s dressed in an old t-shirt and sweats, and there’s a faint look of surprise on his face.

“Hello,” he says. He drops his phone from the side of his face. His mouth turns into a smirk as Yamaguchi fumbles, nearly dropping everything in his hands. 

“Shit,” Yamaguchi swears, hauling himself into an upright position. He holds the box in both hands, balancing his phone on top of it. “You didn’t have to scare me like that.”

“I didn’t scare you,” Tsukishima responds, staring at the box in Yamaguchi’s hands. “I just opened the door.” 

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. “Could you let me pass?”

Tsukishima angles his shoulder, letting Yamaguchi walk by. “Are those groceries?” he asks. “That doesn’t seem like a lot.”

The door slams shut. Yamaguchi ignores the question, relishing what he’s been craving all along: the warm lighting of his apartment, the scent of Tsukishima’s dusty books, and the savoury, mouthwatering smell of whatever Tsukishima was cooking.

“What’d you make?” Yamaguchi asks.

“Stir fry,” Tsukishima answers. He walks over to Yamaguchi, and begins to unfurl the loose scarf that hangs on Yamaguchi’s shoulders. 

Yamaguchi tilts his head, making it easier for Tsukishima to unwrap the scarf. “I didn’t take too long, did I?” 

Tsukishima brushes a stray hair from Yamaguchi’s face. “No,” he answers. He fixes Yamaguchi’s bangs, pushing them away from Yamaguchi’s eyes. “You took way longer.”

Sighing, Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. The scarf has finally been removed from his neck, and he welcomes the draft of air on his neck. 

“Anyways,” Tsukishima interjects. He places his hands over Yamaguchi’s, his long fingers curling over the paper box.

Right. The box. Yamaguchi’s anticipation comes back in full force, simmering in his belly. “I…” he begins to say. He looks down at their intertwined hands. The sight makes his cheeks flush, despite having been in the cold a few minutes ago.

“Your hands are cold.” Tsukishima’s hands curl over Yamaguchi’s. “Why weren’t you wearing gloves?”

“I forgot them,” Yamaguchi says quickly. He likes when Tsukishima dotes on him, but there’s something more important he needs to do.

He hopes the dents in the box haven’t ruined what’s inside. If his gift is ruined, their whole night will be ruined, and then -

Tsukishima clears his throat. Yamaguchi’s eyes slide up to his face, and his nerves settle immediately. 

“I got something for you,” Yamaguchi says. “Because - you know, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Tsukishima’s hands are warm and solid. He looks at Yamaguchi expectantly, and back down at the box.

“Uh.” Yamaguchi bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s not a huge gift or anything, because I didn’t have time.”

“That’s fine,” Tsukishima responds. There’s a tiny smile growing on his lips. The kind that he only shows around Yamaguchi, and it lights a tiny fire inside Yamaguchi’s chest. “What’s in the box?” 

“You probably already know,” Yamaguchi says, feeling embarrassed. He looks away. It’s not a super complex gift, nor is it expensive. 

“Can I open it?” 

Yamaguchi looks back at Tsukishima. He seems...pleased, almost happy, and there’s a tinge of red dusting his cheeks. 

_He likes it?_ Yamaguchi thinks, almost in bewilderment. “Sure,” he answers, shoving his thoughts to the back of his mind. 

Tsukishima flips open the delicate box. The insignia of his favourite bakery in Sendai stares back at him, and his eyes widen.

“Yamaguchi,” he says. “You...went all the way there?”

“Yeah.” Yamaguchi peers into the box, sighing in relief when he sees that none of the strawberry shortcake is smushed. “After work.”

“The weather’s terrible, though,” Tsukishima mumbles. He takes out a little piece of strawberry, and some whipped cream smears onto his knuckle. 

“I like the cold.” 

Tsukishima grins, lopsided and open, and stares at the strawberry between his fingers. “You could’ve just texted me to pick you up,” he responds. His voice is devoid of scolding. There’s something soft in his eyes, and the wavering of their shitty hallway light makes them glimmer.

The truth is, Yamaguchi didn’t like the cold today. His hands are stinging from potential frostbite. His shoes are soaked with melted snow. But Tsukishima’s hands are warm, and Tsukishima’s smile is loving.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Yamaguchi says, before he can stop himself. 

Tsukishima hums. “And you did,” he agrees. He holds the piece of strawberry in front of Yamaguchi’s mouth. “Open up.”

“Wh -” Yamaguchi stutters. He almost goes cross-eyed at the fruit near his face. “You’re supposed to take the first bite!”

“You trekked in the unforgiving Sendai snow for this,” Tsukishima deadpans. His smile has turned into something wry. His hand remains in front of Yamaguchi, unyielding, and Yamaguchi has no choice but to part his lips. 

Tsukishima places the piece in Yamaguchi’s mouth. His face is slowly turning more pink, but his expression is steady, if not a little shy. 

“Is it good?” he asks. His voice is slightly hesitant.

 _Cute,_ Yamaguchi dazedly thinks. He crushes the sweet pulp of the strawberry with his tongue. “Really good,” he answers, once he’s done eating. 

Tsukishima’s hand drops to his side. “We should…” he starts. He motions towards the kitchen. “I made -”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi interrupts, propelled by a sudden burst of energy. His face is beginning to feel hot. The faint taste of strawberry is still in his mouth, sweet and tart.

Tsukishima’s face flushes fully red. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he replies, his sonorous voice breaking up. 

He stares down at the box they’re still holding. “...I love you,” he says, after a beat.

Yamaguchi’s breath catches in his chest. “Uh,” he stutters. He didn’t expect to hear that. He can feel his heartbeat in his cheeks. “I love you too.” 

There’s a tiny grin on Tsukishima’s face. “Cute,” he notes, and places his hand on the side of Yamaguchi’s face, caressing his jaw. He leans down to place a kiss on his forehead. Yamaguchi can smell the cool mint of his shampoo, and feel the gentle pressure of his lips.

“Can we eat now?” he asks, once his lips have left Yamaguchi’s forehead. 

Yamaguchi feels his heart thrum in his chest, slow and steady.

“Sure,” he says. His lips curve into a smile. The coldness in his fingers is long forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 happy (late) valentine's day. 
> 
> hope u guys are doing well. [here's my twitter](https://twitter.com/burningutica/status/1347611839996305415) and [here's my tumblr](https://phyllomena.tumblr.com/) if u wanna hmu.


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